


show you what all that howl is for

by Katranga



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Cum Play, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Felching, Humor, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Vampire Bites, Vampire Eddie Kaspbrak, Werewolf Richie Tozier, in the way that all the plot leads directly to the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: “But I’m not normal, though,” Richie says.“No, you’re not.” Eddie’s hand falls, but only to Richie’s forearm. His fingers twine in the fur there. “Were you before?”“Um.” Richie watches Eddie’s fingers. His nails are kind of sharp, too. “Not really.”“Come inside,” Eddie says. With his other hand, he snaps a suspender against Richie’s broad chest, and smirks when Richie flinches. “I’ll show you how much fun not being normal can be.”—Werewolf Richie is new to the supernatural scene, and needs help adjusting. He meets vampire Eddie at a party, who gives him a warm welcome.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 58
Kudos: 493
Collections: Monster Reddie





	show you what all that howl is for

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, it's here, right on time for spooky season!  
> This would not have happened without clowntown artists going wild on Twitter lately with werewolf Richie art, so thank you to every monsterfucker over there!  
> Aaand I got some nfsw art commissioned from [@mxnsterteeth](https://twitter.com/mxnsterteeth/status/1312582097509343237?s=20) Check it out! (Over 18 only, as is the fic, obviously!)  
> The BIGGEST thanks to my beta [@kaspbee!!](https://twitter.com/kaspbee) So very grateful to them for helping me with this!!  
> Just so everybody knows what they're getting into, Richie doesn't go full werewolf for the fucking, but he does have some fur, ears, fangs, and a tail. Also, Eddie's a vampire. So he's gonna drink some blood from a certain willing participant.  
> Here's a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/08Ml1FdxkhO9IKLx7KjWjr?si=IZYz1CxeTAaIaY0zUdkABg) I made for this, if you're looking for some mood music! (Fic title from Wolf Like Me by TV On The Radio).

Richie hasn’t had sex in over three months. This would not be altogether notable—considering his status as a thirty-eight year old bachelor who only came out in the last decade—except that the specific reason Richie hasn’t had sex is that three months ago he was bitten by a werewolf, which subsequently turned him into one. A werewolf. Richie is a werewolf. He repeats it to himself sometimes, not because he forgets but because he can’t quite believe that this is the rest of his life.

The learning curve is steep—which his rapidly depleting collection of novelty mugs can attest to, when he grips them just a little too tight and they shatter into a million pieces across his chipped kitchen floor.

If he can do that to a mug, he shudders at what he could do to a human, which accounts for much of his dry spell. 

The guy who bit him apparently didn’t have any such qualms when Richie stepped in to do his job as a bouncer and break up a bar fight.

“Oh shit!” the guy shouted, moments after he’d sunk his teeth into Richie’s hand. Like an animal. His fangs were out, wolf ears sprouted from either side of his baseball cap. If he’d looked like that when the fight started, Richie sure as fuck wouldn’t have stuck himself in the middle of it. “Oh fuck, sorry, dude. You might—you might not turn. It’s only a maybe.”

Only a maybe. But Richie’s never been that lucky.

So now his senses are in overdrive; everything smells  _ so strong,  _ and every sound is  _ so loud _ . He quit his bouncer gig because of it (is that irony, or just annoying?)

Plus there’s the whole turning into a wolf thing, which mostly kicks off against his will, so his social life isn’t exactly thriving. Now he’s mostly down to just Bev, a real werewolf, who answers all of his stupid questions and tells him no, raw ground beef isn’t a meal, but yes, a nice raw steak  _ is. _

He has Bev because of Bill.

Richie and Bill have been friends since high school, but Richie had barely seen him in the months leading up to him getting bit, their communication dwindling to sporadic texts and phone calls with no regard for the time of day.

So when Richie woke up naked in the forest after his first transformation, he wasn’t sure Bill would even answer, but he was still his first call.

“A werewolf?” Bill repeated at nearly a yell—not shocked, but to be heard over the music in the background.

“Yeah. I—dude, where the fuck are you? I could really use some help, man.”

“Yeah, always! Except—I’m not really in the area.”

“Can you  _ get _ in the area?”

“Yeah, uh—next week, I think? What year is it there?”

“Bill, the fuck?”

“I met this fae, Rich, he’s really cool. Mike—I think you’d like him! Anyway, so time—”

“The fae realm, are you  _ kidding _ me?” His frustration almost made it a growl, which freaked him out even more. “That’s where you’ve been?”

“Time moves weird over here, I can be Upside next week. Until then, I still got you! Always. I made some Downtown friends—I’ll send Bev your way.”

“Bev? Who?”

Bev, light of Richie’s life.

She showed up to Richie’s apartment the next morning with fiery red hair curling around her face, ears tufted, and a canine-sharp grin. 

“I’m Beverly,” she said, walking into Richie’s bachelor apartment without invitation. Her nose wrinkled up, which was fair, because Richie’s apartment had always smelled like stale sweat and cheap pizza, but it had overnight it started smelling immeasurably worse. “You can call me Bev, probably.”

She toed at an empty beer can on the floor with her hiking boot, then stuck a big hand out to Richie. Coarse ginger hair and rusty freckles covered her pale skin, and her grip was firm when he accepted the handshake. “Bill says you need a welcome to Downtown.”

Downtown. The home of nearly all werewolves, vampires, witches, fae and various other supernatural creatures living in the city. More of a designation than a place, since the corner of the neighbourhood they were originally relegated to has expanded to the entire downtown district and beyond, into nearby suburbs and the forest past city limits. 

Despite the inescapable presence of Downtowners, the area is a popular destination among humans, who are more than welcome to visit (gotta suck somebody’s blood, right?). 

Richie hadn’t spent a significant amount of time in Downtown as a human, mostly because he didn’t want follow up questions about whatever activities he might’ve partaken in. Did he buy a charm from a witch? Did he get sucked on at a blood bar? Did he drop by one of those underground orgy clubs? Richie wasn’t interested in any of that, so the only reason he’d have any reason to go would be to gawk like a tourist at people with wings and fangs and fur.

He’d be on the receiving end of that now if he moved, so he’s still living Northside among humans, despite Bev’s complaints every time she makes the trek out to see him.

But moving feels like a statement. Rolling up with his life packed into half a dozen cardboard boxes would be saying, “Hello, yes, hi! I am here now, I am one of you. Hope you like me, because I’ve got nowhere else to go!” He doesn’t get a second chance if he fucks that up.

Richie’s thought about it though, because it’s not like he can escape the gawking from where he is, either. He came back to his apartment once with wolf ears that he couldn’t put away and his neighbour tried to pet them. When Richie knocked his hand away, the guy scoffed and said, “Whoa, aggro. Guess it’s true what they say about werewolves, huh?”

But the location is convenient; a block away from his dead-end office job that he used to show up tired to from the bouncer gig and sporadic stand up shows, and now shows up tired to after running around in the forest as a wolf a few times a week. 

So for now it’s fine. Not exactly what he wants, but he doesn’t know what that would be, anyway.

“Come to this garden party with us!” Bev’s saying while they try to expend some excess energy on a hike in the woods. She’s been trying to bring Richie to literally any Downtown gathering the entire three months they’ve known each other.

The “us” in question is Bev and her vampire girlfriend Kay, who doesn’t really like Richie, so he says, “Maybe next time.”

“You say that every time. Come on, Bill and Mike will be there!”

Bill also mentioned this party. Richie told him no, too. There’s never really any point in resisting a change this big, but that doesn’t mean he has to go to a party for it.

“Isn’t it at some vampire’s house?” Richie asks.

“Yeah, Eddie and Stan are hosting,” she says, like the names mean anything to him. “Well, Stan’s a witch. And I’m pretty sure their wife or girlfriend or whatever is living with them now, too.”

“‘Their wife’ as in Stan’s, or ‘their wife’ as in Eddie  _ and _ Stan’s?” 

“Just Stan’s,” she laughs. “But Eddie and Stan have lived together for a while. They want you to come, everybody’s gonna be there. You can meet them, and Ben, and Mike, finally.”

She elbows his ribs encouragingly.

“Yeah, but like…”

What if they didn’t like him?

“It could be your like—” Bev flutters her fingers “—debut to Downtown.”

“I dunno.” Mostly joking, Richie says, “Are they gonna suck my blood?”

“Eddie might suck your something,” she mutters.

“What was that?”

“I said Eddie might suck your something!” Bev repeats loudly. She picks up a stick and starts whacking a tree with it. “Like your dick? I swear to god, he was complaining about this 5’11” dude chatting him up, and Eddie said he wasn’t tall enough to even eye-fuck him. You’re just his type.”

“Because I’m tall?”

“And your whole…” She waves the stick up and down the length of him contemplatively.

“I’m more than a hole, Beverly,” he says.

She throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, he’ll eat you up.”

Which is  _ not _ why Richie ends up agreeing to this party.

But it definitely factors in.

Richie hasn’t had sex since he got turned. However, he has come with more frequency than he has since his early twenties, when he was finally out of his parents’ house and able to fuck his fist at the drop of a hat. Ever since becoming a werewolf, he’s had to orgasm at  _ least _ twice in one sitting before he goes soft, or else his dick keeps standing at attention like it’s waiting for something Richie’s yet to provide.

He’s not gonna subject Bev to that kind of question—well, really, he’s not going to subject  _ himself _ to hearing about Bev’s sex life again. After he asked if biting another Downtowner would turn them into some sort of hybrid, she’d winked at him and said, “Nope. Bites among friends are just for fun.” And then she disproportionately used the word “tingly” in describing sex with her vampire girlfriend.

So Richie goes to Bill with his masturbation problem instead.

He shoots him a text saying,  _ hey I know you’re busy fucking around with fairies or whatever, but when you get a sec, I got a quick q for you _

Three hours later, Bill replies,  _ yeee? _

Richie doesn’t overthink it, he just sends,  _ do werewolves uhhh knot? _

He’s making dinner, roasted potatoes and asparagus with a steak that’s barely touched the cast iron pan, so he goes back to that until Bill calls him five minutes later, spouting laughter before he even says hello.

“Oh, fuck you, Bill,” he says, immediately on the defensive about his own inexperience. Sometimes it feels like he’s going through puberty a second time, except now he doesn’t have a range of raunchy teenage comedies to turn to for knowledge. “How am I supposed to know?”

“God, I can just imagine you—” Bill’s almost crying with laughter at this point. “Fuck, were you planning to stretch out some dude’s asshole—”

_ “You’re _ an asshole,” Richie snaps. Transformations are tied to strong emotions, so embarrassment always speeds it along the fastest. Fur immediately sprouts along his arms, and claws pop out around the spatula he’s holding. He tosses it onto the counter before he leaves claw marks. “And you  _ know _ I’d rather take it!”

Bill’s still laughing, but at least Richie can convince himself it’s at a joke he’s made instead of his own blistering incompetence.

Richie grabs the steak out of the pan with his half-transformed hand and tears into it, the tender, sinewy meat easily pulling apart under his sharpened teeth. He seasoned it with garlic butter and rosemary, but all he’s really after is the rich, iron-filled centre. Almost as good as the deer he and Bev took down last week; he swears it was the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

Eating the steak calms him down enough to halt the transformation, but he’s gonna be stuck with claws for a while. He’s not good at it like Bev, effortlessly shifting between states. He has to concentrate—or stop concentrating; it depends on what’s setting him off. And it’s  _ hard. _

“Fuck, sorry,” Bill finally says. Richie throws another steak in the pan; he’s still hungry. “I didn’t know either, I had to ask Mike.”

“Bill!”

“He says no.”

“I hate you.”

“Have you messed around with anyone since you turned?” Bill asks.

Richie scoffs. “Not even close.” 

“So just jerking it?”

“Just jerking it,” he sighs in confirmation. “Kind of a lot.”

“It’s normal,” Bill says, and Richie’s relieved he doesn’t need to verbally ask his question to get the answer he wants. “For all Downtowners, I guess. Mike can go for hours, I’ve never been fucked this good.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

So, anyway.

Richie wouldn’t mind getting fucked.

Along with no sex, Richie hasn’t done stand up lately, either. He hasn’t left the relative comfort of his apartment for much other than his office job or Bev, otherwise the inconvenience just isn’t worth it.

Besides his heightened senses giving him headaches, every time Richie’s nerves hit, he starts sprouting fur. He’d much prefer his nervous puking, thanks. 

Especially with the looks he gets from people—humans. He has to specify, because Downtowners just give him knowing nods, but when humans notice what he is, their reactions are anywhere from pissed to scared to morbidly curious.

Like when Richie started transforming at a Subway due to an overwhelming combination of the truly egregious Subway smell, a pair of noisy kids running around, and the customer ahead of him leaning halfway over the sneeze guard saying, “Seven pickles. Seven! That’s only six, can you count, or is that why you work at a Subway? Now that’s eight, what’s wrong with you?” And somehow Richie growling at the dude to just eat the damn pickles made  _ Richie _ the bad guy, just because he suddenly had wolf ears. The entire place went silent. Pickle guy looked ready to piss his pants. Richie left before they could kick him out.

“But you’re, like, good at this right?” Richie asked when Bev first explained that to control his transformations, Richie needed a handle on his emotions.

“If by ‘good’ you mean I don’t start transforming while in line to order a sandwich,” Bev said, “then yes.”

“So why do you look like—” He waved at the features that made her so obviously a werewolf; the ginger ears sticking out of her hair, her pointed teeth, her almost-claws.

“It’s a warning.” She grinned sharply. “Fuck around and find out.”

Richie doesn’t want to send a warning. He wants to salvage the shaky remnants of his life, but he’s not sure what’s left to save.

Can a werewolf be a stand up comic? Feels like it could be a joke. He can riff on how he came out of the closet at thirty one, after wasting his best years on rushed BJs with strangers in the dark. Now it’s like he’s coming out all over again, showing up  _ way _ late to the party and struggling to keep up with a new community that he’s scared to connect with and terrified of being rejected by all at once.

That’s a joke, right? There’s gotta be a joke there somewhere.

On the eve of the garden party, Bev and Kay pick Richie up in a car that’s too fancy for Richie to look at, let alone sit in, but he gets in and buckles up at Bev’s behest.

He sees what they’re wearing and groans. “Bev, come on.”

She twists in the passenger seat to look at him. “What?”

She’s in a fitted suit over a blouse that dips all the way down to her belly button. Next to her in the driver’s seat, Kay has her dreads tucked into an elegant updo, and she’s wearing a long, poofy dress with glittery stars all over it. Possibly chiffon, but he doesn’t know enough about fashion to wager a real guess. In any case, both of them are some real Pinterest “style goals” shit.

Richie tried his best, but he’s only got so much to work with. His polka dot button-down only fits right at his shoulders, and is too big everywhere else, so it bunches up where it’s tucked into his pants—which are stretched at the waist from when he started transforming in them last week. But it’s his only non-wrinkled shirt and they’re still his nicest pants. He found a pair of suspenders in the back of his closet that he’d hoped would tie the look together, but next to Bev and Kay, he looks like a kid playing dress up.

“Why do you two have to look so good?” Richie complains.

Bev frowns. “You look fine.”

Richie rolls his eyes, slumping against the supple leather seat. “How do you expect me to score vampire dick with  _ fine?” _

“I wouldn’t run yourself into a tizzy worrying about that,” Kay offers. “Even if you were strolling straight off a runway, you’re not Eddie’s type.”

Which makes him want to throw himself out the moving vehicle. “Bev, did you bullshit me just to get me to come to this party?”

“No!” Bev turns to her girlfriend. “Babe, if you’d never heard Richie speak, wouldn’t you think Eddie would be into him?”

Kay tilts her head, pursing her lips in thoughtful contemplation.

Richie curls in on himself as fur pops up over his forearms. He tugs down his rolled-up sleeves to cover them; it’s easier to hide it than to calm down enough to make it go away.

“Show off your neck,” Kay says, eyeing him in the rear view mirror.

“Trying to sneak a peek at the merchandise?” Richie jokes.

Kay grimaces and Bev twists in her seat to paw at Richie’s collar when he doesn’t take Kay’s suggestion. “Come on, moon’s out, tits out.”

Richie laughs and waves her away, the swelling tension in his chest easing just a little as he undoes a few buttons.

It’s a bit of a drive, which has more to do with Richie living so far away from Downtown than how far the party is from the city. 

The house isn’t exactly what Richie expects a vampire house to be—it’s not gothic spires or crawling ivy, instead it’s got an overgrown cottage vibe, set deep in the forest. They park in a big gravel driveway among a bunch of other too-nice cars, and beyond that the estate is fenced off from the rest of the forest by a wrought-iron gate.

Bev sends a text to be let in, and Richie goggles at the front lawn through the fence.

This, at least, is exactly what he expected from a vampire’s nighttime garden party. It really is more garden than lawn, lush and colourful flora barely making room for cobblestone pathways and partygoers mingling in all states of transformation.

What must be some kind of magical lights twinkle through the air, illuminating what the moon and stars don’t reach, and a fountain in the middle of the lawn depicts two doves spouting water over each other. 

“Holy shit,” Richie mumbles.

“Stan’s a garden witch,” Bev supplies.

“Do  _ not _ get them started on sustainable gardening practices, or you’ll get dragged into a conversation you can’t escape,” Kay says.

“Bev?" a voice crackles from the intercom speaker in the gate.

“Yeah, hey Ben!” Bev tucks her phone into her back pocket. “It’s me and Kay.”

“Awesome, any guests?”

“Richie Tozier, werewolf.”

Richie shifts his weight, tugging at his sleeves again. He’s not sure she absolutely needs to go about announcing his business like that.

“Oh, super!” Ben says. “Bill’s out back. Enjoy!”

Richie shoots Bev an incredulous look as the iron gates swing open. “Why does that stranger know I’m friends with Bill? Who have you been telling about me?”

Bev pats the top of Richie’s head with a condescending little coo over his irritation. “We’re always excited about fresh blood, dude. Even more exciting that you’re not, like, a massive dick.”

Instinctively he says, “No, I just have a massive—”

“Quiet.” Kay grabs two glasses of champagne off a floating tray and hands one to Bev. “Richard, I implore you to find friends who aren’t us this evening.”

“I have other friends,” Richie mutters as Bev loops her arm through each of theirs and leads them further into the party. 

There’s music coming from somewhere, and it doesn’t get any stronger the further they walk in; it stays just faint enough to be appreciated and danced along to. Fancy little apps float on trays like the drinks, but Richie just nabs a champagne glass for himself.

“I thought this was Eddie and Stan’s party?” Richie says, hoping for a swift introduction. “Who was the guy on the intercom?”

“Ben,” Bev says. “He’s just always around.”

“Like, as a ghost?” he guesses.

Bev laughs. “No, he’s a witch. Does a lot of construction and maintenance magic. He helped clean this place up before Eddie and Stan moved in.”

They round the back of the house, and the garden and the party stretch on and on, right into the forest that surrounds them on all sides. It’s refreshing, being outdoors like this. Richie never used to be a fan, but now the wide open air is a welcome relief from the city.

There’s pockets of people talking or dancing, nibbling on food, and one vampire is full-on slurping on the wrist of another party goer.

“Are there humans here?” Richie asks, even though Bill’s invited, so obviously there are humans at this party. He’s just caught off guard by the rapturous expression of the person getting sipped on.

“Sure,” Kay drawls. “We need to snack on something.”

She lunges at Richie, fangs flashing in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t flinch.

Richie grins smugly. “Kay, I think I know you just well enough to know that you’d never drink any of my bodily fluids.” 

She turns her nose up in disgust while Bev cackles.

“Hey!” There’s a familiar shout from behind him. “That’s a Richie joke if I ever heard one, where is he?”

Richie turns to find Bill bounding in his direction.

Bill’s outfit makes Richie feel better about his own fashion choices. Bill’s dressed like he came straight from a dress rehearsal of  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ , except the flowers in his hair are real.

Bill catches Richie in a big hug. “You made it!”

Richie hugs him back tight but not too tight, though Bill still grunts a little in his ear. Regardless, when he pulls back Bill’s smiling, glowing with a newly-found happiness only discovered since moving to the fae realm.

“Yeah, you gonna keep me company at my Downtown debut, Big Bill?” Richie asks. 

He’s not joking. It’s usually Bill begging Richie not to wander off at social events, but the significance of Richie’s first party as a werewolf weighs heavy on his shoulders. He’d chugged his champagne in one gulp, and it’s already stirring warmly in his empty stomach. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, certain he’d puke if he tried, and when he’s nervous he acts out. He needs someone to keep him in line, and Bev and Kay have already disappeared into the crowd.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Bill replies with an off-handed wave, then grabs his shoulder. “Come meet Mike!”

He steers him over to a group of glittering folk near a large shrub blooming with pink flowers. 

“Mikey,” Bill says excitedly. “Richie’s here.”

A tall man with softly pointed ears turns to greet him, an enchanting smile lighting his face when he sees Bill. There’s a shimmer across his dark skin, like he’s covered in a subtle highlighter. He’s easily one of the most handsome people Richie’s ever met.

“Great to finally meet you,” Mike says in a rich voice, offering his hand to shake.

Richie takes his hand and covers it with his other, like he’s meeting the president or something. He smells divine. 

“You smell divine,” somehow leaves Richie’s mouth.

“Thank you,” Mike says like that’s not a bonkers thing to say to a stranger. Maybe to fairies it isn’t? Maybe he’s heard it from werewolves before? God, no wonder Bill ran off with him. “Have you been settling in okay? I hope Bill’s passed along all the information that may be helpful to your situation.”

“Mm hm.” Richie nods, tight-lipped, praying to god that by “situation” he doesn’t mean his knotting question.

“Happy to hear it. We do have community counselors trained for your particular circumstance, but—”

“Sex counselors?” he blurts.

Bill lifts a brow at him. “You need a sex counselor, Rich?”

Mike tilts his head. “I mean… those are available, yes. Are you experiencing sexual issues that would require counselling?”

Richie blinks. “Are you not talking about the time I asked Bill about werewolf masturbation?”

“Ah,” Mike says in realization. “No.”

A beat passes, and when he doesn’t elaborate, Richie chirps, “Great!” and snags another champagne flute.

Bill squeezes his shoulder and says to Mike, “I think Bev’s doing a good job getting him settled in.”

“Oh!” Richie says, finally latching onto what the conversation is actually about. “Yeah. Bev kicks ass. Almost makes up for Bill fucking around in the fae realm all the time.”

“You’re always welcome to drop by,” Mike says. “Stay for a while. Bill says you’re still Northside? It could be a nice change of pace.”

Richie sidesteps the subtle nudge to move Downtown and says, “Aw, does Bill talk about me?”

“I complain about you,” Bill grumbles.

Mike smiles genially. “He misses you.”

_ “Babe.” _ Bill flushes and he half-slaps Mike’s chest as he leans up to kiss his cheek. “Richie’s head is already too big, don’t encourage him.”

Before Richie can say no, actually, please tell him how much Bill misses Richie’s presence, a bird nearly dive-bombs his head.

Richie ducks, swearing, and watches the little sparrow alight on an arm which already has several birds on it. The arm, luckily, is attached to a person.

“Oh, sorry,” says the holder of birds. “I think she missed her friends.”

Bill yanks Richie forward. “Stan, this is Richie.”

“Hey…” Richie draws out, eyeing the array of fowl on their arms in wonder. “Can all witches talk to birds?”

“I can’t talk to them, they just understand me,” Stan says. They shrug a little, and the birds using them as a perch all take off at once. 

Richie cranes his neck, watching them fly away. “As long as they don’t shit on me.”

“Ooh, can’t promise that,” they grin. Then they nod at Bill. “Bill said this is your first time really getting into Downtown? How are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s great, thanks for having me.” Then he remembers what Kay said about Stan’s garden, and ignores her advice. “Your lawn is really something else. Right out of a fairy tale, if that’s not too on the nose.”

Their eyes light up. “Thank you. It really all comes down to cultivating a native habitat with sustainable gardening practices…”

And then Richie gets caught up in a ten minute conversation about garden magic and sustainability, during which he tries and fails to just listen and not make jokes. Stan laughs, though, which is a good sign. At some point Bill and Mike wander off, come back, and then leave again when they see Stan’s on the same topic. 

Stan offers twice to come to Richie’s and help him xeriscape, even after Richie tells him he lives in an apartment with no greenery.

“So you need to move,” Stan says in response to that. “How far are you from a forest?”

“It’s close to my job,” Richie says instead of answering.

“Then you need a new job.” Stan is somehow even more self-assured than Bev. “What do you like to do?”

He scratches his cheek with a shrug. “Suck dick.”

Stan barely blinks. “So, jokes.”

“I mean, yeah, but I wasn’t joking about sucking dick.” Richie looks around, though he doesn’t know who he’s looking for. “Speaking of, Bev said something about—”

Down the lawn, a pink-haired vampire loudly says, “Sorry, sweetie, what was that?” She cups her pointed ear and leans toward a dark brown wolf that’s shoulder-height to her. 

The wolf snorts. 

The vampire nods. “Ah, yes, you  _ do _ want a rematch. I thought so.”

Stan’s gaze follows where Richie’s attention has been dragged to, but before they can say anything, a handsome, heavyset man from the crowd shouts, “Hey, take it to the forest! We’re not having a repeat of last time.”

Richie recognizes the voice as Ben from the intercom.

The vampire salutes him. “Aye, aye, Benji. You gonna referee? My girl fights dirty.”

Richie gapes at Stan. “Does this shit turn into a fighting ring after eleven, or what?”

Stan snorts. “It turns into a lot of things. You put immortal and/or superpowered beings all in one spot, it can get a little rowdy. It’s all in fun though. As long as no one crushes my fucking begonias!” They turn their head and direct the end of their sentence at the couple.

They’re already heading to the forest, along with a small crowd of spectators.

Ben jogs over to them. “You wanna come alone and take bets, Stan?”

Stan grins, checking over their shoulder. “Is Eddie around?”

“I haven’t seen him in a bit,” Ben says.

They rub their hands together, a mischievous glint in their eye. “Then absolutely.”

“Do you know where Eddie is?” Richie asks, aiming for casual, but probably missing because he doesn’t even know this Ben guy and he’s asking for the whereabouts of someone else he also doesn’t know.

“Probably inside making sure everyone takes off their shoes,” Ben says. “I don’t think he’s drunk enough to stop caring yet.” He holds out a hand. “Sorry, you must be Richie. I’m Ben, nice to meet you.”

Richie shakes his hand, and then the vampire shouts from the edge of the forest. “Benji!”

Ben sends him another smile before heading off to join the little fight club.

“You wanna come?” Stan asks, nodding at Richie’s hairy forearms where his sleeves have pulled up. “You can fight the winner if you want.”

Richie shakes his head, trying not to look startled at getting called out for being unable to control himself.

He knows Stan doesn’t mean anything by it—clearly to them it’s natural as breathing to invite Richie to transform—but it throws Richie back to getting called out at college parties when his gaze would linger just a little too long on the abs of a guy doing a keg stand. It took him thirty one years to come to terms with his sexuality and stop hiding, now he’s back at square one with this werewolf shit, covering up any hint of it and panicking when it pokes through in ways he can’t control.

“No. Uh, I—” Richie looks around, for Bill or Bev, or any polite excuse not to watch this fight. “You got a bathroom I can use?”

“Sure. First floor by the front door.” They’re walking backward to catch up with Ben. “Eddie put up signs—just don’t go upstairs. And—”

“Take my shoes off, yeah,” Richie tosses over his shoulder as he hustles up to the house.

If he somehow runs into this Eddie guy at the worst possible time, then he will just give up and hitchhike home, because obviously this was a cursed idea from the start.

Just past the patio doors inside the house, there’s a hand-written sign in meticulous handwriting saying to  _ Remove your outdoor shoes before entering the house or else. _ It’s repeated in Spanish, French, and another alphabet Richie doesn’t recognize. The directions are bordered by glitter-dusted watercolour illustrations of flowers and woodland animals.

In his distraction, Richie tugs his sleeve down so hard that his shirt rips. 

Fuck.

He kicks off his shoes and weaves through the crowd of people picking at appetizers in the kitchen. Almost immediately, he recognizes his tactical error of entering an enclosed space with the goal of stopping his transformation. 

He can smell everybody in here, their perfumes and body odours mixing with the scent of burnt mini quiches and the fresh linen-scented air freshener plug-in by the pile of smelly shoes. 

It’s a big place, so Richie forges ahead until he finds an area clear of people by the stairs. 

His gums ache as his fangs push through. It only hurts if he tries to put it off, but he can’t—well, he  _ can _ transform, for once it would be fine to do in public, but he doesn’t want to.

As a concept, Richie doesn’t mind turning into a wolf. In the forest, it’s fun. It’s freeing; the feeling of packed dirt under his paws as he tears past trees faster than he ever thought he’d be able to move. And preferring raw meat over nearly any other food is fine. Even transforming back to human with his mouth stained with blood is alright when Bev’s there with him, her red mouth split open with laughter.

The problem is the rest of it. It’s smelling his coworker’s BO from three cubicles over. It’s breaking his bathroom doorknob for the fourth time because he’s too tired to watch his strength in the mornings when all he wants to do is piss.

It’s figuring out how to tell his parents, who didn’t approve when his sister dated a vampire in high school. Looking back, it probably had more to do with the guy having been turned in the eighteenth century and his sister being seventeen at the time, but all he remembers is them asking why the guy didn’t go back to Downtown where he belonged.

It’s  _ that. _ Richie’s supposed to belong in Downtown now. But he can’t decide whether he wants it or not.

His ears stretch out in a second, and it's almost a relief, a release of the growing tension headache at his temples, but it's also very much not. The chatter from the kitchen grows louder, the soft ambient music becomes grating.

“As one of the hosts, I should probably tell you to take yourself outside for that,” comes a teasing voice from up the stairs.

“Huh?” Richie lifts his head in time to see a pink-skinned fairy slide down the railing to sit on top of the end post.

“But I think if I get Eddie drunk enough, he’ll be delighted to find a wolf in his living room,” she says with a mischievous grin. She lifts a bottle from her lap. “I’ve got the good gin, have you seen the vamp?”

He shakes his head. 

She sighs dramatically, delicate shoulders heaving, and then leans toward him conspiratorially. At a stage whisper she says, “He gets nervous hosting, you know. He keeps talking about buying a separate house just to have parties in so he won’t worry about getting his home burned down, but Stan tells him that’s not sensible.”

“And you are… Patty?” Richie takes a stab at it.

Patty nods, her curls shaking glittery dust onto her rosy skin. She tilts her head and gives Richie a once-over. “Do you need a second?”

“Uh… yeah.”

She nods up the stairs. “It’s quiet up there.”

Richie points to another sign hanging on a string across the first staircase step.  _ Remain on the first floor or else. _

“Yeah, I decorated it,” Patty says, which explains the flowers and glitter. “So I say take a breather upstairs.” She lifts off the banister, translucent wings flapping behind her back. “Just don’t tell Eddie, he  _ hates _ when I let strangers wander around alone.”

Richie frowns. “So should I not—?”

She’s still talking, “And I tell him, Eddie, that’s why you keep a guest list, so you can try to enjoy yourself at your own party—but, anyway—” She rolls her eyes and asks Richie, “Have you seen Stan?”

“In the forest.” Richie’s hiking a leg over the sign before he can think better of it. “Taking bets on a fight.”

“Oh, delicious!” she says as she flutters down the hall.

Richie books it upstairs for a bit of peace. It’ll just be for a minute or two or ten until he calms down, and then he’ll return to the party ready to use his negligible charm to win some people over.

The landing leads into a sitting area with halls on either side, and a balcony to Richie’s right. Richie goes for the balcony.

He leans against the railing for a second, drinking in the clean night air and surveying the party carrying on below him. Then he jerks back so nobody can see him creeping on strangers from a place he shouldn’t even be.

Richie slumps down the brick wall into a ball on the ground, willing himself to be small—or, smaller than a full-ass wolf, at least. At some point his claws had come out, and his arm fur is poking clear through the rip he tore in his shirt. With a sigh, he rolls up both sleeves to hide the rip. He thumbs through the thick brown hair covering his forearm, a self-soothing gesture he worries is too much like petting to be normal.

The transformation has stopped roaring through him; now he just has to pull it all back in. To clear his mind, he pulls out his phone and tries to play  _ Bubble Witch 3  _ with his claws.

He’s wondering, not for the first time, if the game is culturally appropriative, when something flutters out of the sky onto the railing.

Richie expects it to be one of Stan’s birds, but finds himself staring at a furry black bat. 

The bat spreads its wings and bares its tiny little fangs, screeching loud enough that it almost hurts Richie’s ears.

Ignoring any potential damage to his eardrums, Richie leans forward and coos, “Aw, aren’t you cute? Are you hungry, buddy? Bet you can snag some real nice treats from the party downstairs.”

Then there’s a flash that leaves Richie blinking away stars, and in the bat’s place is a man perched cross-legged on the railing.

“Fuck!” Richie rears back on his ass, his phone clattering to the ground.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ yourself,” the man replies with a roll of his eyes. His eyes are dark against his pale skin, almost glowing in the moonlight. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Richie gapes at him. “How am I supposed to expect a bat to turn into a person?”

“You’re trespassing at a vampire’s house.”

And, well.

The vampire’s canines are just this side of too long, and his ears end in sharp points, slimmer than a fairy’s. His hair is swooshed back elegantly despite his recent transformation. Two pinpricks mark his throat, which is left completely exposed by the open collar of his white silk shirt, undone to the last button; it’s a deep V tucked into tight, brass-buttoned trousers that go halfway up his torso.

Again, Richie doesn’t get why this guy gets to keep his clothes after turning into an animal when Richie has to wander around the forest naked after his transformations, but whatever. He’d probably wolf out on the spot if this guy had appeared naked in front of him. His claws pulse a little just thinking about it. 

Richie swallows thickly, tucking his hands into his armpits. “I’m not trespassing, I was invited.”

“Not past the first floor, you weren’t. There are clearly labelled signs instructing where guests can go.” Which swiftly narrows down this guy’s identity to being the elusive Eddie.

Richie grins. “Yeah, in four languages, nice touch.”

“And yet you apparently can’t read any of them?” His voice peaks high.

Richie doesn’t want to rat Patty out so he just laughs. Eddie hisses in response, fangs sliding out to their full length. It’s undeniably hot, but in a feral, unhinged way rather than a monster of the night way.

“Aw, aren’t you cute,” Richie says again. He leans forward. “Are you hungry, buddy?”

He slides off the railing to a standing position. “I will throw you off this balcony.”

Richie rises in turn. That should help, right? Bev said Eddie likes tall guys. He unfurls from the ball he’d gotten himself into on the balcony floor and rises to his full height, which is a bit taller than normal, thanks to his stupid pointed ears, and significantly taller than Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes widen the slightest bit.

“Try it, I’m up for a wrestle.” Richie drops into a lazy defensive position, feet spread and hands up.

Eddie’s eyes narrow dangerously. That’s the only warning Richie gets before Eddie pins him to the wall, forearm pressed to his throat. He doesn’t smell like anything, even this close, which, stupidly, makes Richie want to lean in closer.

“Oh,” falls from Richie’s lips. “Fuck, warn a guy—”

“Mind telling me who I can blame for the grievous error of inviting you here?” 

It’s at this point that Richie realizes that maybe immediately antagonizing the dude whose dick he wants to hop on wasn’t the best idea.

“Um, you? You—you’re Eddie, right?” he says, trying to get back to where they should’ve started. “I came with Bev? She said you invited me.”

Eddie mouths ‘Bev’ silently before stepping away from Richie with a roll of his eyes.

“It would’ve been Stan who invited you,” he corrects flatly. “I don’t invite strangers to my home.”

Which is the most embarrassing turn this conversation could’ve taken.

So his fucking tail pops out.

“Shit, aw fuck,” Richie stutters, tugging at the back of his pants so his tail slips free from the fabric. “Sorry, shit. Just gimme a sec, this happens when I’m nervous.”

“Go be nervous in the garden.”

“I will, I can—just lemme calm down.” It’s almost a whine. He waves at himself; fangs crammed too-big in his mouth, fur sprouting from his collar, his literal fucking tail hanging between his legs. “Come on, man.”

“Come on _ what?” _ Eddie snaps.

“I can’t go down there like this,” he says in a small voice.

Eddie frowns at him deeply, shifting from pissed to confused to whatever makes the furrow between his brows soften just a little. But there’s still a tightness to his voice when he says, “You’re Richie, right? Bev’s Richie?”

His face heats. “If that’s what we’re calling me, yeah.”

“You just got turned?”

“Uh huh.”

He drags his gaze over Richie, from the tips of his fuzzy ears to his feet in mismatched socks. 

Richie doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen next, but it’s not for Eddie to set his cool palm along Richie’s jawline. He thumbs over errant tufts of hair until he’s gently rubbing the thin skin of Richie’s ear between his fingers.

“You know this is all normal,” Eddie says evenly, unaffected as Richie turns to putty in his hands at the slightest touch.

He hopes all the stupid werewolf fur hides his blush, but he knows it doesn’t. “Yeah, I’m just… getting used to it.”

“The party downstairs would be a good place to start,” he says flatly. He doesn’t stop stroking his ear. It feels nice. Feels really nice. “Plenty of people just like you to make you feel normal.”

“But I’m not, though.”

“No, you’re not.” His hand falls, but only to Richie’s forearm. His fingers twine in the fur there. “Were you before?”

“Um.” He watches Eddie’s fingers. His nails are kind of sharp, too. “Not really.”

“Come inside,” Eddie says. With his other hand, he snaps a suspender against Richie’s broad chest, and smirks when Richie flinches. “I’ll show you how much fun not being normal can be.”

Eddie leads him to what would probably be called a parlour; there’s a piano, a drink cart stocked with crystalline bottles, and lots of seating options. With a sure hand on his shoulder, Eddie guides Richie to a settee with an open back that he can comfortably slip his tail through.

“Drink?” Eddie offers.

“Yeah, you know what, I’m getting pretty thirsty.”

Eddie sighs deeply through his nose.

Richie watches Eddie’s back as he pours two glasses of scotch that he can smell from where he sits. Eddie moves with a preternatural grace, flowing from pulling out the crystal stopper to tipping the bottle between two tumblers in a quick, smooth motion, like he’s a painting come to life.

“So why is up here off limits?” Richie asks.

And then Eddie starts talking, rapid-fire and snappish, and the sparkling vision of a statuesque vampire falls away into something more attainable.

“What, I’m not allowed to have boundaries in my own home? Have you  _ ever _ been to a house party that allowed you to wander into any given room?”

Richie shrugs, looking up at Eddie as he hands him his drink. “I was just expecting you to be hiding an orgy room, or a blood-drinking room where you hold all the people under your thrall—“

Eddie gives him a flat look.

“That’s probably offensive right?”

“More stupid than anything.” As he talks, his hand jerks with emphasis. His scotch would’ve splashed over the rim if he didn’t move fast enough to catch it back in the glass. “And the apparently primal instinct for every fucking party to turn into an orgy is part of the reason the bedrooms are off-limits.” He takes a measured sip. “Mostly it’s so I don’t have to clean up here, though.”

“Clean?” Richie repeats, half-expecting there to be some special Downtown meaning of the word. 

“Yes, have you heard of it? Have you ever done it?”

“Once or twice,” he says. He’s rewarded by seeing the vein in Eddie’s forehead twitch. “You’re seriously worried about—what? Sweeping? Vacuuming?”

“Why do you sound so shocked? This is a big house! I do a lot of cleaning!”

Richie almost asks if Downtown doesn’t have a maid service, but that’s when Eddie settles onto the sofa next to him. His body’s open and angled toward Richie, one arm draped along the back behind him and the other resting his scotch on his own knee. Richie expects to feel warmth through his shirt from the bare forearm pressed to his shoulder blades, but Eddie’s refreshingly cool against him. 

“Anyway,” Eddie says emphatically.

“Anyway?” Richie agrees, amused.

“You’re really hot.”

He waits for an addendum, a qualifier, or some follow-up segue, but he supposes the ‘anyway’ was meant to start a new conversation.

Richie adds an addendum all by himself. “But I’d be hotter if I talked less?”

Eddie’s brows furrow. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“What do you want me to put in your mouth?”

Eddie gives him a long, hot look as he drains his scotch in one smooth gulp, otherwise ignoring Richie’s question. Richie shivers, and takes a small sip of his own drink.

Eddie sets the empty glass on the table in front of them and shifts closer to Richie. He lays his hand on his forearm, carding his fingers through the fur there. The position feels intimate, in the way that everything about the manner in which Eddie holds himself implies that he’s giving Richie his full and undivided attention. Richie’s not used to that.

“Bev said it was an accident.” Eddie looks up from where he’s playing with Richie’s fur to meet his eyes. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. Just some random asshole at a club.”

“Who?”

He shrugs and makes an ‘I dunno’ noise. “He ran off.”

“What club? What did he look like? Have you seen him since?”

He snorts. “Why, you gonna put a hit out?”

“We have ways of dealing—” Eddie stops himself, rolling his eyes at the way Richie bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“What?” Richie prompts. “You have ways of dealing with people like that?”

Eddie lets out a short sigh. “The actions of irresponsible Downtowners need to be addressed appropriately. It’s all fun and games and orgies until some reckless vampire turns a few too many humans without asking first and they get the bright idea to torch a blood bar as revenge.”

The phrase ‘fun and games and orgies’ bounces around Richie’s head for an extra moment before he registers the rest of what Eddie said. “Did you get asked? If you wanted to be a vampire?”

“Yes. I wanted my own life.” He draws a finger along the inside of Richie’s forearm. “It’s all mine now.”

Richie lifts a brow. “And the life you picked is rooming with your buddy, and their wife who covers your menacing signs in glitter?”

Laughter bursts from Eddie’s throat, his grin lighting up his face. “What would I do with an eternity all alone? This is exactly how I want to live my life.”

Richie’s not sure how getting turned—with or without permission—would grant anybody control of their life, but he kind of believes Eddie when he says it.

“You’re still living Northside, right?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah.” Richie sips his scotch and sets it down, still half-full. “Why’s everybody so interested in where I’m living?”

“Because anyone at this party can get you living somewhere suitable in a week,” Eddie says flatly.

“Nah, I’m uh...” Richie scratches his cheek awkwardly. “I’m alright.”

“The point isn’t to do this by yourself, Richie,” he says disapprovingly. He relocates his hand to Richie’s knee, rubbing his thumb in slow circles there. “We look out for our own.”

Richie shrugs, shifting closer to Eddie. “Bev’s been helping me out.”

“At your shitty human apartment? How far is it from a forest?”

“Only a fifteen minute subway ride,” he mutters.

“Yeah? You take a lot of subway rides as a full-ass wolf?”

“I’ve come close,” he admits. He tries to laugh it off, but it only makes Eddie’s frown deepen. “I get worried I’ll hurt someone if I transform in public, and that just makes it go faster.”

“Even if you do fully transform on a subway, that doesn’t mean you’ll hurt anybody,” Eddie says. “You’re still yourself when you’re a wolf, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m so strong now. You know how many mugs I’ve broken from holding on too tight?”

Eddie laughs. “When I first got turned, I ran into a telephone pole and split it in two. Took a week for that block to get service back.”

“When were you turned?”

His face falls, just a little bit. “18… 83,” he says slowly, almost like a question.

Richie cocks his head. “Did they have telephone poles back then?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says with a sure nod. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve noticed some  _ upsides _ to getting turned?” He trails his fingers up Richie’s inseam, and Richie spreads his legs to give him better access. 

Richie inclines his head, getting close to his face. “Sure, sure. But you know you’re supposed to lie to make yourself  _ younger, _ not older, right?”

“Not vampires.” Eddie squeezes Richie’s inner thigh, right next to his crotch. He’s still talking calmly, like he can’t feel the heat radiating from Richie’s rapidly filling erection. “Bit any less than a century ago and you’re a fucking baby.”

“And when were you bit, baby?” Richie asks, barely a murmur on his lips.

Eddie smiles, and it’s a sweet, proud thing. “1972. I wanted to feel powerful.” His hand shifts, and Richie expects him to grab a handful of his dick, squeeze so hard it might hurt, but instead he reaches up to fist his hair. Faster than Richie can blink, he’s straddling his lap and then asking, barely a breath against his ear, “Keep my secret?”

Richie nods in agreement, taking in the cool, solid body suddenly weighing down his lap. 

Eddie kisses his pulse point. “Good.”

He asks an obvious question. “Are you gonna bite me?”

“Maybe.” Eddie sits up, sweeping his bangs out of his face. His other hand’s still in Richie’s hair. “Do you want me to?”

“Maybe.” Richie swallows. Eddie’s gaze is trained to his throat. “Kiss me?”

He grins, fangs flashing. He takes Richie’s face in both hands and drops his mouth to his. 

Eddie’s lips are cool like the rest of him, but warm up with the slide of their lips against each other’s. Richie’s hands go to the back of Eddie’s thighs as Eddie rises in his lap, stretching to kiss him harder.

Richie keeps his lips pursed, so his fangs dig into his own flesh instead of Eddie’s. Maybe Eddie can tell, because he nips at Richie’s bottom lip to make his mouth fall open and licks the blood off his tongue. Richie gasps in shocked arousal.

Eddie draws back, smirking down at him. “Sorry. You want me to put the fangs away?”

They’re sharp; not as long as when he was hissing on the balcony, but still glinting. Still vampiric.

“You don’t have to,” Richie says, heart pounding hard against his ribs. 

“You sure?” Eddie swipes a thumb along Richie’s slick bottom lip and then licks the blood off his thumb. “I won’t bite, but I can’t help but nip.”

“That’s okay.” Richie’s already light-headed from how turned on he is; he can’t imagine anything Eddie does being a deal-breaker right now.

Eddie laughs softly. “I have to wonder, if you’re worried about hurting humans, have you had sex since you turned?”

He shakes his head, looking away. “Keep thinking I’ll break ‘em in half.”

Eddie drags his nails up Richie’s back. “I won’t break.”

Richie lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s. 

“You can claw me up all you want.” He smiles down at him, eyes dark. “You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Richie’s breath leaves him in a _ whoosh. _ Keeping eye contact, he drags his hands up Eddie’s thighs to grab two big handfuls of his ass and then jerks him down onto his crotch.

Eddie laughs, fangs glinting, and grinds against him. Richie’s head falls back, revelling in the friction he’s been craving. Eddie leans in and licks up Richie’s jaw. “Yeah, just like that. Feels nice, right?”

Richie grunts like the sound’s been punched out of him, holding Eddie in place and thrusting against him so hard the chaise squeaks. “You have a bed, or you wanna break this couch fucking on it?”

“Down the hall.”

Eddie moves to slide off Richie’s lap and walk, but Richie tightens his grip instead. He stands with his hands on Eddie’s ass, and Eddie quickly hooks his legs around his waist. 

Richie’s impressed that he didn’t tip them over, but Eddie apparently wants to unbalance them by spouting whatever fucking words he wants, with no regard for how they’ll affect Richie.

“Ooh, big strong man,” Eddie murmurs. He fists the material spanning Richie’s chest. “Want your hands all fucking over me, Rich.”

“Ah—yeah,  _ fuck.” _

Somehow, Richie gets them out of the parlour and down the hall with a raging hard-on and a very handsy vampire. 

A few steps in, he does have to pin Eddie against the wall, knees going weak when Eddie nips at his jaw, drawing a bit of blood to taste and then kissing him with salty lips. The cuts are small enough that they heal instantly, and Eddie needs to nip at his skin anew for more.

“You taste good,” Eddie hums.

His breath catches. “Yeah?”

His tongue darts out to catch a drop of blood at the corner of Richie’s mouth, and he nods. “Real good, Richie.”

Richie drops his face to his neck; the slight scent of him is strongest here, enticing in a way that makes his mouth water. It’s almost a growl when he says, “God, you smell good enough to eat.”

Eddie digs his heels into Richie’s ass. “Get me to the bedroom and that can be arranged.”

Richie tightens his hold and carries him down the hall until Eddie points him to a door. The room is decorated in typical vampire fashion, blood-red walls with black and red accents.

The bed is enormous, the centrepiece of the room, and fitted with black silk sheets. 

Richie throws Eddie onto it and follows after him while he’s still bouncing from the momentum. Eddie reaches for him as Richie straddles his lap. He runs his hands down Richie’s chest in a way that’s already becoming familiar, like Eddie enjoys the feeling of Richie under his palms.

Eddie goes all the way down to undo his pants.

Richie’s claws pierce Eddie’s shirt where they rest on his shoulders, and his breath hitches. “Should I—should I calm down first?”

Eddie lifts a brow, cupping Richie solidly over the tent in his pants. He gives a firm squeeze. “Isn’t that the opposite of what you’d want right now?”

“I mean—” Richie starts. Eddie presses a soft kiss to his neck, and Richie tilts his head back. “To get rid of the—the werewolf shit.”

Eddie nods like he’s listening as he unbuttons Richie’s shirt with deft fingers. It’s a polite step that Richie won’t take if it’s up to him to get rid of Eddie’s shirt; he’ll end up ripping it off.

Richie’s chest is covered in thick, dark hair. If he’d remembered that, he might’ve stopped Eddie from getting his shirt open so fast. But Eddie doesn’t give him time to be self-conscious, because he’s digging his nails into his stomach and ducking down so he can cover Richie’s nipple with his mouth, laving his wet, cool tongue against his pebbled flesh before scraping his teeth over it.

“Oh,” Richie gasps, arching towards Eddie’s mouth, palm flat against the curve of Eddie’s spine.

He sucks gently at his other nipple, pushing Richie’s shirt and suspenders off. He looks up at Richie from under his lashes, keeping eye contact as he buries his face in his abundance of chest chair until his eyes flutter shut in clear enjoyment.

He straightens to whisper in Richie’s ear. “I don’t want you getting rid of anything but your clothes.”

“Oh.” Richie swallows. “Same.”

And he hooks two fingers into Eddie’s shirt and pulls. The fabric tears like tissue paper, debuting the top half of Eddie’s torso. His pants are so stupidly high waisted that he doesn’t even get a peek of his happy trail.

“Hey!” Eddie complains. 

“Yeah?” Richie covers Eddie’s sculpted chest with a hairy, clawed hand. 

Eddie flicks a stray button off his thigh, clearly struggling to glower rather than smile. “Do not ruin these pants.”

He pushes Eddie so he falls back on the bed, grinning over him. “That’s all you, babe.”

Eddie gets his pants unbuttoned in a flash, burning through vampire speed for such a vital task. Richie takes over from there, peeling his underwear and pants off in one go.

And then Eddie’s spread out before him like a meal. Pretty red cock dripping onto his stomach, toned thighs splayed open for Richie.

He moves to crawl onto him, but Eddie stops him with a foot on his chest. “Pants. Off.”

And he nudges him back, making Richie laugh.

“You know what you want, huh?”

Eddie nods, getting comfortable lying back against the headboard. “I wanna see that cock, Rich. You gonna give me what I want?”

Richie rolls off the bed to shuck his pants off as quick as he can. He crawls back across the silk sheets to where Eddie’s watching him with hooded eyes, leisurely draped across the pillows. 

Richie grins, and grabs Eddie under the knees to haul him forward until his ass meets the tops of Richie’s thighs.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” Richie says, and rubs his fat dick against Eddie’s.

Eddie moans in pleasure. “Oh, fuck yeah, just like that.”

Richie curls a hand around Eddie’s cock and strokes slowly, taking care not to scratch him. He watches the glistening head disappear and reappear from within his clawed fist, a little mesmerized. It’s warmer than the rest of Eddie—not by much, but Richie will warm it up. 

When Eddie curls his fingers at him, eyes half-lidded, Richie drapes himself over Eddie’s body. He gets back to kissing him, open and messy. Eddie’s all over him, licking into his mouth and scratching up his back. Tugging at his hair to direct the kiss whatever way he wants. Massaging just above Richie’s tail so his hips twitch forward hard against Eddie’s dick. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Richie groans when Eddie squeezes his ass with both hands.

Eddie kisses his ear. “Can I fuck you?”

_ “Yes.” _

He swats his ass and says, “Lube’s in the drawer.”

Richie reluctantly rolls off Eddie’s tight body and nabs a bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside drawer.

“You want condoms?” Eddie asks.

“Uh.” STIs aren’t transmittable through Downtowners; Richie had just grabbed the condom on instinct. Bill said it came down to personal preference and, well. Richie’s never minded a mess. “Not really. You?” 

“Not really.”

“Sick,” Richie enthuses. He smacks the lube into Eddie’s hand. “How do you want me?”

Eddie gestures down his body as he drizzles lube onto his fingers. “Just like you were before, sprawled out on top of me. I wanna hear you panting in my ear while I take you apart.”

With weak knees, Richie eagerly climbs back on top of him.

Eddie smooths a clean hand down Richie’s side, all the way down to his ass where he squeezes. With his other hand, he presses two slick fingers to his hole, teasing him with soft strokes around the rim. Richie whines, grinding against Eddie’s hip.

Eddie bites him lightly on the ear. “Hold still, puppy.”

“Oh my god,” he garbles against Eddie’s skin.

“I want you to feel good,” Eddie says as he slides his middle finger in. “Is that—”

“More,” Richie blurts immediately. Tongue too big for his mouth but just the right size to slobber up Eddie’s neck. “Feels good, I want more.”

Eddie’s nails dig into the meat of his ass, making Richie moan. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Eddie opens him up briskly but carefully, despite having a half-transformed werewolf writhing on top of him and sucking his face like he’ll stop breathing if he’s not kissing him. Richie wriggles his arms up under Eddie, clinging to his shoulders as Eddie lazily massages his prostate.

Richie feels unhinged. He feels desperate and free in a way he’s never experienced before. Between kisses, Eddie murmurs praise against Richie’s lips, calls him good, calls him big, asks him if he likes it when he tugs on Richie’s tail with three fingers stuffed up his ass. 

With a whine, Richie pulls back. A string of saliva connects their lips. “Eddie, fuck me, please.”

Which gets a sharp grin from Eddie as he starts finger-fucking Richie at a punishing pace. 

Richie’s face drops to the crook of Eddie’s shoulder, where he’s slick with Richie’s spit and sweat—all of Eddie must be covered in Richie’s sweat by now. “I’m gonna—fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna come.”

Eddie doesn’t pause. He grabs Richie by the front of his hair and tugs him up to meet his eye. “Good. You’re gonna show off that new werewolf stamina tonight, aren’t you?” he goads. “Come now and keep on coming until we’re done?”

This embarrassing moan falls from Richie’s mouth, and he nods against Eddie’s palm.

Eddie grins. He lets him go to reach between their slick chests. He scratches through the fur on Richie’s lower stomach before wrapping his hand around Richie’s cock.

“Shit, Richie,” Eddie groans, stroking Richie’s length in time to his thrusts up his ass. “What are you so fucking big for, huh? Fuck, you feel so  _ good.” _

Richie ducks his face to Eddie’s shoulder. His teeth sink into Eddie’s skin to hide the embarrassing noise he makes in response.

“Oh  _ fuck,” _ Eddie’s voice hitches, jerking Richie off with renewed vigour.

Richie clutches him even tighter as he spills hot into Eddie’s hand. Eddie’s all around him as pleasure courses through Richie; Eddie’s heavy panting at his ear, his salty blood on his lips. Richie can’t get enough of it. 

Once Richie stops pulsing, Eddie brings his cum-covered hand to Richie’s jaw and draws him into a kiss—or something close to it. Eddie licks into Richie’s mouth filthy-deep, chasing the blood lingering on his tongue. 

“Was that okay?” Richie asks dumbly when Eddie lets him go. 

“So good,” Eddie assures him, looking pretty blissed out himself even before he’s come. “So good for me, baby.”

“Fuck.” Richie had been desperate for release, but he’s still hard, and out of his mind turned on. 

He sits back on his heels to get started on sucking Eddie’s dick. 

It’s like art, the way Richie’s cum is painted across Eddie’s skin. It’s not a thought Richie’s ever had before, and the feeling has to be connected to the unprecedented possessiveness thrumming through his veins at the sight of Eddie covered in him. It’s werewolf instincts; marking his territory, biting into him and wanting to leave a mark. He’d try to tone it down, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

Experimentally, Richie drags his nails down Eddie’s inner thigh, and marvels at the red claw marks left in his wake. 

Eddie’s panting, his chest falling up and down as he nods. “Yeah, Richie, come on. You can do whatever you want, just make me come so I don’t blow as soon as I start fucking you.”

Richie’s breath catches, briefly distracted by the thought. He shoots him a smirk. “But wouldn’t that be a fun mess?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches for his own neglected dick.

Richie catches his wrist. “I’ll do it,” he says, lowering himself between Eddie’s legs. “I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Eddie slips his fingers through Richie’s hair. “Over and over, yeah?”

“Yeah,  _ fuck.” _ Richie’s mouth waters as he noses at the base of Eddie’s dick, drawn to the musky scent of him mixed with the tang of Richie’s own cum. 

He laps at Eddie’s stomach as he spreads his cum around with his hand. He tweaks at Eddie’s pert nipple, getting it slippery before rolling it carefully between his teeth. Eddie cups the back of his head encouragingly, and Richie scrapes his nails across his other nipple. That gets a hissed  _ “yes” _ from Eddie. Richie sucks harder at the nipple between his teeth, the taste of cum and sweat coating his mouth.

“Yeah,  _ ah, _ fuck.” Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair. “You know just what to do for me, huh?”

Richie moans, grinding his dick against the bed for the idle friction. Eddie said he wanted to make Richie feel good, and he made him feel incredible. Richie wants to make him feel even better than that.

“Okay, come on,” Eddie says, voice wrecked after a minute of Richie nibbling at his chest. He pushes on Richie’s shoulder, urging him back down his body. “You know where I want you.”

Richie wants to be here too, a hairbreadth away from Eddie’s dick. And while Eddie doesn’t seem to have any of the doubts Richie does about getting his fangs around him, Richie still nips at his thigh and asks, “You trust me with these things?”

Eddie thumbs his cheek. “Well, my nipples are still intact, so I think you can handle my cock. But if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to.” Richie’s nails dig into Eddie’s thighs a little, as though Eddie might restrict Richie’s access to his cock. He doesn’t, he just looks down at Richie with hooded eyes. 

A drop of Richie’s hot saliva drips onto Eddie’s shaft. 

_ “Richie.” _ Eddie hikes his leg over his shoulder, locking him in. Nothing else for Richie to do but slobber all over Eddie’s straining cock, hard and waiting just for him. He slurps noisily at the head, out of practice and out of his depth with the new teeth taking up the front half of his mouth. By the way Eddie’s hips cant upwards, he’s still not worried. “C’mon, Rich, you’re slobbering like you wanna swallow me whole.  _ Do _ it.”

Richie makes an embarrassingly needy noise in response. He drops his jaw open and immediately sucks the rest of Eddie’s cock into his mouth. 

“Ugh, yeah,  _ fuck,” _ Eddie moans, heel pressing into Richie’s shoulder blade. 

The strength of Richie’s new werewolf senses normally overwhelms him, but not now, not here on Eddie’s cock where he wants to be fucking buried. Everything’s just heightened, better, more intense.

His cock’s deep enough to swallow, so Richie does—throat clenching hard enough to gag him, but that gag reflex is gone. He grabs Eddie’s thigh, gets one hand on his ass, and that’s all the prompting Eddie needs to start pumping into Richie’s mouth, measured but powerful, so Richie can feel it. Tears prick Richie’s eyes as he eases his jaw open as far as it’ll go, desperate for more.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Eddie asks, looking down at him with a heavy gaze. “Like getting fucking wrecked, baby?”

Richie nods, burying his nose in his pubic hair to drink him in. He’s completely enveloped by Eddie; the heavy weight of him on his tongue, his thigh pressed to his scruffy cheek, his fingers wrapped tight in his hair.

Eddie scratches behind his ear and moans, “Such a good boy.”

Richie maybe blacks out for a second with how turned on he is. He’s vaguely aware of almost choking on Eddie’s cock when he tries to groan, nod, and take him impossibly deeper all at the same time. 

Eddie pulls him off, panting, “Shit, are you okay?” 

Eddie’s hair is a mess. His hard cock is dripping with precum and spit.

“I am fucking incredible, my dude,” Richie says, voice rough.

Eddie’s expression shifts from concerned to mesmerized once he gets a good look at Richie’s face. He thumbs along his jaw to his chin, as messy as his swollen lips. 

“Come on my face?” Richie says.

“Oh.” Eddie nods assuredly, guiding him back onto his cock by the back of his head. “Yeah, of course. Just another minute of your mouth first, though, it’s so good.”

Richie moans as he takes him back in, spurred on by Eddie’s praise. Eddie holds off on fucking too hard into his mouth this time, so Richie bobs enthusiastically, sucking at his head and then dropping down to nose at the crease of his thigh, the tip of Eddie’s cock tickling the back of his throat. 

His teeth graze his shaft a few times, and it just gets Eddie more into it, hissing his approval until he finally grits out, “I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me come—”

Richie pulls off. He tongues messily at his slit and jerks Eddie off in his fist.

“Yeah, fuck,” Richie says lowly. Eddie’s dark eyes are glued to him. “You taste so good, I want—”

And then Eddie’s coming in thick stripes across Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth hangs open in a long groan as he watches himself mess Richie up. He wonders if Eddie thinks it’s art, too.

Richie sucks the last drops of cum off the tip of his cock, desperate to be painted with Eddie inside and out.

“Fuck, come on,” Eddie grunts, tugging on his shoulder.

Richie starts to lazily stretch back to his mouth, but Eddie flips them over to pin Richie to the mattress. He’s got his legs tucked tightly along Richie’s sides as he drags his tongue up Richie’s cheek. Richie shudders beneath him.

“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs. He swipes his fingers across Richie’s cheek and taps at his lips. Richie obediently opens his mouth to suck the cum off his fingers. Eddie smiles. “So sweet for me.”

Richie blushes, thankful Eddie’s fingers prevent him from needing to reply. Eddie licks his face clean, careful not to bite at Richie’s face. Richie wouldn’t mind if he did, if he sank his teeth into his flesh and drained him dry.

He squeezes Eddie’s hip and whines a little. 

Eddie removes his fingers to kiss him hungrily. “You ready to get fucked, sweetheart? Want me to take you apart?”

“Yes, god, yes, I wanna feel you, Eddie, I want you everywhere.”

Eddie chuckles and manoeuvres Richie’s legs until his knees are hooked over Eddie’s shoulders, hoisting him as high as he can go. His tail grazes the mattress between Eddie’s knees.

“Oh,” falls out of Richie, cock giving an excited twitch against his stomach.

Eddie nips at the inside of Richie’s knee, gazing down at him as he licks blood off his lips. Richie’s never seen anything hotter.

He shifts so his cock slips between Richie’s cheeks, where he’s open and wanting thanks to Eddie’s fingers. Richie wiggles his hips pleadingly; there’s not much else he can do in this position, Eddie’s got control over him. The realization lights fresh desire in his chest.

“Eddie…”

“Yeah,” he says, like he wants it just as bad. Eddie takes his cock in hand and presses the blunt head to Richie’s hole, where he stretches eagerly as Eddie pushes in at a steady pace. 

It fills him up, up, up. The angle of Richie’s body makes him feel like he can feel Eddie’s cock in his throat all over again.

_ “Guh,” _ Richie releases a sound that’s certainly not a word, but makes Eddie smile all the same.

“You like that?” Eddie asks, scraping his nails up Richie’s ass, the backs of his thighs, the sharp pain making Richie grind against him, farther onto Eddie’s cock.

Richie nods frantically, and Eddie starts off slow, but gains power as Richie moans about how he needs it.

Eddie watches him greedily as he fucks into him, his thrusts steady and calculated in response to Richie’s reactions. He curls his fingers into the fur on his chest, leaning over him further. “So fucking hot, Rich. Do you know that? How good you look taking my cock?”

“Fuck, keep saying shit like that I’m not gonna last.”

“Yeah?” He bends Richie near in half to steal a hot kiss off his lips. “You’re not just gonna come for me twice, are you? A hot young piece like you, you’ve got at least two more orgasms in you.”

And maybe it’s the fact that Richie hasn’t been called young in a decade, let alone a ‘hot young piece’, but he wheezes in the wrong way and ends up with a cramp in his side. It isn’t the  _ most _ embarrassing thing he’s ever done during sex, but it’s certainly annoying while he’s getting railed by the world’s hottest vampire.

Eddie laughs when Richie articulates what the problem is, and drops one of Richie’s legs onto the bed so he can stretch out. “There, that makes it easier to kiss you, anyway.”

Richie nods, and Eddie’s lips are already on him. Richie claws up Eddie’s back, begging him to get close and stay there, bury his cock in him until he can’t breathe.

His own dick is tucked half-forgotten between their stomachs. Richie props his foot against the mattress as leverage, fucking himself onto Eddie and giving his own dick a little attention. He feels his orgasm drawing low in his stomach, and starts snapping his hips up to chase it.

“Oh, there you go,” Eddie says approvingly. He curls his hand around Richie and starts jerking him off to match his thrusts. “Once you come I’m gonna flip you over, okay? Gonna fuck you hard and fast, I know you can take it.”

Richie nods, panting. “Yeah, yeah, yeah—”

Eddie’s soft words at his ear, the gentle touch of his tongue over skin he’d just been biting at, his nails digging into Richie’s knee and his hand gripping his cock so carefully—it gets Richie going all over again. He comes hard, clenching tight around Eddie’s cock. He wants it to go on forever, for Eddie to keep filling him up and eating his moans off his lips. 

But Eddie has plans for him, so Richie barely has time to catch his breath before Eddie pulls out.

Richie would complain except that Eddie immediately grabs Richie’s hips and flips him onto his front.

“Okay.” Eddie taps Richie’s calf. “Hands and knees.”

On wobbly limbs, Richie manages to lock his elbows and prop himself up on his hands. He spreads his knees across silk sheets and Eddie groans, immediately getting his hands back on him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Eddie murmurs. 

His thumb catches Richie’s rim, and Richie shifts back in hopes of getting  _ anything _ in him. But Eddie just circles him absently as he massages skin where he’d dug his nails into earlier. Richie’s sure he’s gaping, slick and pink from Eddie fucking into him. 

“C’mon, lemme keep your cock warm,” Richie tosses out, swaying his hips enticingly. “Don’t want it to get cold, do you?”

Eddie barks a laugh, and rubs firmly at the base of Richie’s tail, making Richie keen. 

“Alright, big boy,” Eddie says lowly. He tugs his tail out of the way and nudges his cock between his cheeks. “You ready for a fucking at vampire speed? I won’t hold back.”

Richie’s eyes flutter shut. “Wouldn’t want you to.”

Eddie dips back in, balls-deep, and for a moment he’s still. Then he rears back and Richie can’t keep track past that, because Eddie’s throwing it into him so fast he must be a blur, fast enough his cock might as well be a vibrator buzzing inside him. 

The momentum jerks Richie flat on his chest, which is right where he wants to be. A long, endless groan draws out of him, cheek pressed to the mattress. Eddie grips his hips with a bruising force, and Richie grabs the headboard to help himself stay in place.

“Okay?” Eddie checks.

With great effort Richie nods, mumbling out, “Jackhammer.”

“Huh?”

“Fucking me like— _ ahhh,” _ Richie lets out when Eddie shifts to lay a hand between Richie’s sweaty shoulder blades, hitting a new angle inside him with eager abandon. 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?” Eddie teases.

“Just fuck me,” he pants. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

It feels like Eddie’s cock is always dragging against his prostate, but Richie can feel him moving, pumping into him hard and fast. The powerful thrusts of Eddie’s hips stoke the waves of pleasure coursing through Richie.

Until, despite their concerted efforts, Richie slides so far up the bed that his head bumps into the headboard.

“Ed—Ed—Eds…” Richie says, barely able to form his name.

“Yeah? Oh.” 

Eddie addresses the problem immediately, hauling Richie back to his original position in the middle of the bed. But he doesn’t stop there. Shockingly easily, he manhandles Richie until he’s sitting on his lap taking his cock.

_ “Ungf.” _ Overwhelmed with sensation, Richie’s eyes roll back in his head. 

“Is that alright?” Eddie asks. “Feel okay?”

“Yeah, just the—my tail—”

Eddie quickly tucks it to the side, out of the way from where it’s stuck between them. He strokes it soothingly. “Better?”

Richie’s mind is still buzzing from that move Eddie pulled, his consciousness fucked out into the stratosphere. “Yeah, fuck,  _ full _ —just gimme a sec.” 

Eddie kisses the top of his spine. “Yeah, baby.”

Richie shivers in his hands.

Eddie lets him adjust to the new position. He lays gentle touches on Richie’s chest and arms. He kisses him on the shoulder as he licks up his sweat. His fingers trail along the inside of his thighs, teasingly close to his cock. 

Richie’s ready for Eddie to grant him another sweet release, but Eddie seems content to simply hold Richie’s sweaty, heavy body against his chest and murmurs praise into his skin.

Richie can’t help but compare this experience to his first time ever, and his first time out of the closet. Both of them had similar, frantic  _ don’t look at me, don’t linger, don’t think this is anything more than it is _ vibes for different reasons. Either desperately dodging the glaring matter of sexuality, or avoiding the impression it could go anywhere further than a casual hookup. 

The current of  _ one time thing one time thing _ has run through most of Richie’s sexual experiences. So he’s used to it, it’s normal. 

But somehow Eddie must’ve missed that memo that a tender touch is to be offered sparingly, that pure, unadulterated attention is a commodity in high demand. Doesn’t he know that Richie reacts to affection like stray dogs to food scraps?

At some point Richie starts circling his hips, achingly aware of Eddie’s cock waiting patiently inside him. 

Eddie hums, moving in kind to encourage him.

Richie moans wantonly, rising up and sinking back down slowly, revelling in the slick drag.

“Oh, go on,” Eddie whispers after a minute. “You wanna bounce on my cock?” He breathes him in, right next to Richie’s ear, and exhales down his chest. “Go on, I wanna feel you, Rich.”

So Richie does, displaying a level of balance and endurance he hasn’t dreamed of since his twenties, when the most acrobatics he got into was an embarrassed BJ in a cramped bathroom stall.

Eddie’s touches lose their gentleness as Richie starts bouncing in earnest. Richie likes that too, the crescents Eddie’s nails leaves on his hairy thighs, the way he pinches his nipple. 

The  _ slap _ of Richie’s thighs against Eddie’s fills the room. Eddie huffs a laugh, and fucks up into Richie every few bounces to fill him even deeper.

“Yeah, yeah,  _ Eddie,” _ Richie pants.

The intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but Richie can’t get enough. He can taste Eddie on the air. Maybe it’s just his cum on his tongue.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Eddie groans, ducking his face into his neck.

Richie tilts his head, baring it all to him in a clear offering.

Eddie licks a long stripe up Richie’s neck as his hand finds its way to his cock, circling it with just a bit of pressure, letting Richie’s movement do the work of fucking into his fist.

“Eddie—” he whines.

His lower lip drags on Richie’s throat. “Can I?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—”

Eddie noses at the juncture between Richie’s shoulder and neck, like he’s picking out the perfect spot. Richie hears the slick slide of fangs growing longer out of his gums. 

And then Eddie sinks his teeth in.

It’s a prick of pain no worse than the way Eddie’s been scratching him up all night, but the effect is on a whole different level. Eddie moans loud enough to vibrate down Richie’s spine. He holds Richie tighter, wraps an arm around his waist to pull him further onto his own cock so he can bury himself in Richie.

Eddie pulses in him, hot and wet, filling him to the brim. Richie’s nails dig into Eddie’s forearm, hanging on for dear life. 

Richie gasps then, because everything feels a tingly kind of  _ more. _ Pleasure courses through him like water, from his pulsing dick in Eddie’s capable hand to the tips of his fingers shredding Eddie’s bedsheets. His hips jerk pitifully, desperate for more of Eddie’s touch.

Eddie picks up speed over Richie’s cock, and Richie realizes he hasn’t even come again, all that was just from Eddie biting him.

“Such a good boy,” Eddie says. Richie can smell the tang of blood on Eddie’s mouth, feel it drip off his chin to Richie’s shoulder. “How do you feel, Richie?”

“Like I’m never gonna stop coming,” Richie gasps.

He chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be a fun mess?” 

Eddie’s still hard in him, and every rock of Richie’s hips results in a lewd  _ squelch _ as Eddie’s cum dribbles down Richie’s inner thighs. Richie wants it, wants more, wants all of Eddie. The bite made him even more sensitive—every touch and thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge until Eddie pushes him over again.

His orgasm punches through him, leaving him gasping for breath. It really does feel like he’ll feel this good forever, waves of bliss drowning out all his other senses. Eddie clutching him to his chest is the only reason he doesn’t slump boneless to the mattress.

When he comes back to himself, Eddie’s dropping kisses across the healed skin where he bit him. “You feel okay?”

“I feel amazing,” Richie says in wonder.

“Not light-headed?”

“No, I’m good, I’m so good,” he says, squirming a little in Eddie’s lap.

They’re both still hard. Richie’s sure it would go away on its own if he untangled himself from Eddie, but when Eddie asks, “One more time?” Richie’s answer is, “Please.”

Eddie gets Richie to lift his hips, and then gets him flat on his front, where it’s a relief for his tail to not be so squished. Like he can sense Richie’s thoughts, Eddie massages the base of his tail soothingly. 

He presses a kiss to the curve of Richie’s ass. Richie arches toward him. He feels exposed, loose-limbed and fucked open in the easiest way. Eddie can do whatever he wants with him. 

What he wants, apparently, is to take his time eating Richie out. Richie is hugely in favour of this course of action.

Eddie moans as he licks his own cum out of Richie’s ass, pulling on his tail to draw him further onto his tongue. It’s fucking  _ transcendent, _ and all Richie has to do is lie there and take it, burying his his pleas for more into the mattress. 

When Eddie’s cleaned him out, he flips Richie over. Staring down at Richie like there’s nothing else worth looking at, Eddie makes quick work of jerking himself off onto Richie’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Richie pants as Eddie swipes two fingers through the mess of their cum. “You like the look of that, baby?”

Eddie smirks, which is answer enough. He goes to lift his fingers to his own lips, but Richie tugs his wrist toward himself instead. The smirk grows to a smile, and Eddie rubs the messy pads of his fingers across Richie’s tongue. 

“Yeah, you wanna take my fingers again? Always so fucking eager, huh?” Eddie asks. Richie closes his lips around his fingers, eyes falling shut in total contentment. Eddie’s lips drop to the head of his cock. “God, I wanna eat you whole.”

And then he does, downing Richie’s cock as he fucks his fingers gently into Richie’s willing mouth. 

Richie slips his fingers into Eddie’s silky hair as he leisurely bobs over him. Eddie runs a flat tongue along the underside, and sucks the precum out of his slit like he wants to savour the experience. 

Richie’s last orgasm sneaks up on him, cresting into Eddie’s waiting mouth. It feels indulgent, drawing out a few more moments of bliss when stopping after the first three would’ve been fine. But why stop at fine?

After Eddie’s swallowed everything Richie has to give, he sits up, gaze half-lidded, and wipes the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand. “Welcome to Downtown, Rich.”

They exchange a few more languid kisses before Eddie gets up to putter around the room. Richie is two seconds away from passing out, so while he’d prefer for Eddie to cuddle with him, all he does to express that desire is let out a grunt before letting his eyes fall closed. 

But maybe he’s not actually that tired, because his mind’s still racing. He’s messed around with his fair share of guys, but this has to be the first time he’s been thoroughly  _ fucked  _ in all the ways he’d dreamed of in his wildest spank bank fantasies. Part of that’s thanks to the supernatural strength and stamina, of course. Most of it’s Eddie, though. He made it his mission to wring every last drop of cum out of Richie in the hottest way possible, and fuck if he didn’t succeed. 

Eddie taps his leg and Richie opens his eyes. His hair looks a bit less like it was styled by Richie’s claws, and he smells like soap. “Don’t fall asleep here. Do you want a shower?”

“Huh?” Richie says. “Oh. No.”

Right. He forces himself back to reality. Eddie’s taken him apart and put him back together, but that doesn’t change any standard party-fucking rules: Get back out there ASAP and act normal.

He sits up and paws through the sheets for his shirt, though his clothes could be absolutely anywhere right now.

“Forget your clothes, I just wanna go down the hall,” Eddie says. 

“Huh?”

Eddie tosses Richie a little packet of cookies and shakes a bottle of Gatorade. “Come relax in my bedroom.”

Richie looks around the room in confusion. “Whose room is this, then?”

“My fuck room. I have a separate bedroom.” He snorts, pointing to the shredded blankets. “You think I’d let you do  _ that _ to the sheets I sleep on?”

Richie gives the room a curious look as he follows Eddie into the hall. He sees a hook hanging from the ceiling, and chests that set his imagination spinning. “Wait, do you have toys in here?”

Eddie walks backward to smirk at him. “What, puppy still wants to play? You want me to tie you up and shove a dildo up your ass?”

Richie stumbles. He’d blame it on his huge cock, but it probably has more to do with just losing blood and then having the remainder of it rush back to his dick.

Eddie’s at his side right away, easily taking on Richie’s weight as he leads him into another bedroom. This one’s more modern, brightly coloured walls with funky art, and filled with pictures and knick-knacks from a life well-lived.

“That was your first vampire bite, yeah?” Eddie asks.

Richie nods.

“You feel a little drunk?”

“Kinda.”

Eddie brushes Richie’s bangs out of his eyes to meet his gaze. He opens his mouth to say something, but Richie could just about fall into those big brown eyes, so he ducks down to kiss him soft, closed-mouth, fangs hidden.

Eddie hums, leaning into it for a moment before patting his chest. “C’mon, blood donation rules, lay down and get some sugar in you.”

“Oh, I  _ had _ some sugar in me—”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes him onto the bed. 

Richie takes a deep breath right into the sheets and groans. He keeps his nose in the fabric as he splays comfortably across the bed. “These smell like you.”

“Ah, fuck, now they’re gonna smell like your dried-up cum, too.”

He sits up sluggishly and scratches through the gummed-up hair on his stomach. “Heh. You got a washcloth or something?”

Eddie darts into the bathroom and returns moments later with a wet washcloth that he tosses to Richie. Richie pats at his stomach with it. Eddie curls up next to him on the bed.

Richie steals a glance at him from under his glasses, wondering what Eddie’s expecting out of this. Richie’s used to playing it cool, fighting his instincts to get closer so he doesn’t act more interested than he should be. He doesn’t know what to do when Eddie’s not playing that game.

Eddie opens Richie’s snack-size pack of cookies for him and makes him eat one after Richie’s done cleaning up. Then Eddie brings a hand up to rub at his ear, which makes Richie melt into him a little more. Maybe vampires just like tending to their food. 

Unsure of where any of this is going, Richie plays it safe and negs himself. That’s usually a good bet. “Can’t believe I haven’t relaxed enough for this werewolf shit to go away yet.”

Eddie frowns. “You know, most Downtowners live their lives mid-shift.”

Richie washes the cookie away with a swig of Gatorade and rushes out, “Sorry, was that, like, rude—”

He rolls his eyes. “Your default doesn’t need to be human, that’s all. A lot of us find that hard to keep up, no matter how much practice we have.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve either got some pointy ears and teeth or you’re a cute little bat.”

“That’s not a vampire’s true form.”

“It’s not?”

Eddie shakes his head. “You wanna see?”

“Yeah.”

“Careful, it might scare you.” Eddie grins slyly, and his teeth start lengthening—all of them, not just his canines like on the balcony. They fill up his whole mouth like a shark. His pupils widen until the black takes up his whole eyes and then further, shadows spilling to the skin underneath. He cocks his head and, with some difficulty past all the teeth, asks, “Am I still cute?”

Richie laughs, leaning forward to check out the fangs despite himself. “Yeah, that’s still at least an eight out of ten on the cuteness scale.”

“Eight?” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Richie’s not sure whether he thinks the score is too high or too low.

Richie tries to tilt Eddie’s head back to get a better look. “God, your dentist must wear chain mail—”

Eddie snorts a laugh, swatting him away, and transforms back to the form he’s been all night.

“It’s not a personal failing to look like a werewolf,” Eddie says, getting right back on track. “It’s who you are now.”

“Is that what you were trying to do with calling me hot? Boost my self-esteem?”

“Either way, I guess I wasted my time. Drink your Gatorade.”

Richie does, and in the quiet between them, he catches the sound of faint chatter from the party through Eddie’s open window.

“Isn’t this your party?” Richie asks. “Shouldn’t you be getting back?”

“Oh, these things last until daybreak,” Eddie says with a wave of his hand. He stretches out on the pillows. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you back down there and get you convinced to move Downtown.”

Richie laughs, looking down at him. “Why do you care so much? Do you need an extra member in your neighbourhood book club or something?”

“Be real, Richie, are you seriously planning on spending the rest of your life up there with humans?” Eddie waves a hand vaguely. “In a second floor apartment next to an intersection? How do you even—”

“I don’t know if I like how much Bev has blabbed to strangers about my life.”

“I’ve dropped her off before,” Eddie tells him. “You have to be the only werewolf I know who can stomach the fucking  _ subway.” _

Richie skips the dig and latches onto the new information. “Wait, what the fuck, and you never popped in to say hi?”

He pulls a face, like Richie’s the ridiculous one. “I’m sorry, did I know you? You wanted me to just show up uninvited to your home?”

“I showed up at  _ yours.” _

“I invited you.”

“I thought Stan invited me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe I told Bev to bring her weird new werewolf friend to the last four parties I threw, so sue me.”

Richie laughs. “Why am I weird?”

“Because you won’t move to Downtown!” Eddie sits up again, knocking shoulders with him. “Look, do whatever you want, but I wanna see more of you.”

Deflecting, Richie stutters out, “You—I think you’ve seen  _ all _ of me. You got a view straight up my ass, if I recall correctly—”

Eddie pokes him hard in the bicep. “I  _ know _ I didn’t drink enough for you to suffer from blood loss, so I’ll just assume you’re acting this dense because you’re fucked out of your skull.”

“And you’d wanna fuck me out of my skull again?”

“If you want to, yeah. Could help you apartment hunt, too.”

“God, you’re fucking relentless, aren’t you?” Richie asks, but he’s grinning.

Eddie shrugs a little and kisses him on the shoulder. “I get what I want. Do you?”

Richie looks down at his hands, halfway-transformed somewhere between human and wolf. None of this was what Richie wanted, but wants can change—they  _ have _ to, occasionally, to catch up with the new life you’re living.

He thinks about his first Downtown party, and all the people who welcomed him like he belonged there from the start. There’d been no hesitation on their end; he could’ve showed up three months ago and been treated just the same. Maybe even before that. 

Richie looks at Eddie, plastered to Richie’s side and smiling softly against his skin like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Optimism swells in Richie’s chest for the first time in a long time. 

Does he get what he wants?

“Sometimes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked... that! Certainly the smuttiest thing I've ever written. I do have a small collection of other smut-filled and not-so-smut-filled reddie fics, so feel free to check those out!  
> You can find me on Twitter [@doeeyeskasprak](https://twitter.com/doeeyeskasprak) if you're so inclined.  
> Thanks so much for reading, please let me know what you thought!!


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